


willow

by thesurielships



Series: evermore [1]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, inspired by willow by taylor swift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:21:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28099851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesurielships/pseuds/thesurielships
Summary: the more that you saythe less i knowwherever you stray, i followi'm begging for you to take my hand,wreck my plans,that's my man
Relationships: Nesta Archeron & Cassian, Nesta Archeron/Cassian
Series: evermore [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2058630
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	willow

Nesta Archeron was exactly where she had planned to be.

She was a planner, always had been. At five years old she had already known she wanted to be a lawyer. At ten, she had taken ballet classes and piano lessons so she would fit in with the upper class. At eighteen, when her first love stood her up on prom night, she had decided she needed a rich boyfriend so he could be her gateway to the perfect life mapped out in her head.

Sure enough, she was now a junior at a world acclaimed law school, already respected by her peers and professors alike. She was destined for success, and she knew it. She had snagged the perfect boyfriend a couple years prior at a party her roommate had invited her to. A blue blooded heir, born and raised in money, who had indeed introduced her to the finer part of society. She spent her Saturday nights in fancy galas, exchanging small talk with the decision makers of her time, and her Sunday mornings golfing with him and their similar entourage.

Life was a bit dull sometimes, but Nesta liked dull. Better than unpredictable.

Like her perfectly bland boyfriend cheating on her with her ex best friend, another person she had carefully picked based on a meticulously outlined list of criteria: money, influence, charisma.

Like going to a tattoo parlor at 4am on a whim. She didn’t do whims.

“Are you sure this is what you want, miss?” asked a deep voice.

Nesta opened her eyes. She had been so absorbed in her introspection she hadn’t noticed him sitting on the stool next to her.

He examined the design she had sketched at the entrance, and she took that time to examine him.

He was a hulk of a man, all corded muscles and veined forearms. His dark brown hair hung in loose waves, falling just short of his shoulders. He was squinting at the piece of paper so she couldn’t quite tell the color of his eyes. Then he was absently biting his lip, and Nesta’s mouth went dry.

“Nesta,” he purred in a sinfully deep voice, jolting her from her entirely misplaced fantasies.

“Cassian,” she replied, having spied his name tag.

He cocked a dark brow, one side of his mouth tipping upwards. “Enchanté.”

She blinked at him. “You speak French?”

The other corner of his mouth joined the first in a dazzling smile that showcased his white teeth and revealed a dimple in his right cheek. “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?”

Nesta felt her own lips curve. “Interesting repertoire.”

“Merci.”

She offered him her arm. “I want it on my wrist.”

“Your name on your wrist,” he mused as he gently held it in his hand. “Any special meaning?”

She shrugged, feigning nonchalance even as her voice came out sharp. “It symbolizes that I am the only person that will always be by my side. I am stuck with myself to the bitter end, and I think it’s goddamned beautiful.”

“Poetic.”

She ignored the sarcastic reply and tried her best to relax into her seat. She may not have planned to be here tonight, but she never did anything half assed. She would walk out of here, tattooed and fresh as a fucking daisy, and take over the world.

The sting of the needle never came, and she glared at the artist that was openly observing her. His hazel eyes trailed down her body, heating her skin as they stopped on her lips, her heaving chest, her clenched palms.

“Miss, are you sure you want to do this?” he asked softly.

She bit the inside of her cheek to avoid snapping at him. Never get on the bad side of someone who has a needle in his hand was a motto that had never led her astray. “Yes.”

“Are you drunk?”

She may have been drinking before she had stumbled here, convinced a tattoo would fix everything and put her life back on track. Was it one or two shots? It didn’t matter, because she was not drunk, and she told him as much.

He studied her again. “I don’t think this is wise.”

“I don’t care,” she bit out, her temper getting the best of her.

“Your pupils are so wide I can barely see your irises, you are most likely hyperventilating, and your heartbeat?” he brushed a meaningful stroke into the pulse point on her wrist, “Barely human.”

“Busted,” she said in a flat voice. “I am Fae. Give me all your money and half your life span and I’ll grant you a cock that never stops growing.”

Her lips snapped shut as her brain caught up with her words. She had never said anything so crude.

The handsome artist tipped his head back and laughed, a rich and hearty sound that warmed her core. “As tempting as that offer sounds,” his smile colored his voice, “I am quite happy with my current,” he paused, “cock.”

Nesta shivered, the vulgar word turned into something entirely different by his husky purr. She was loath to admit it, but she could see why Cassian was reluctant. She was positively crazed, her reactions heightened and out of control. She had an irrational urge to tackle him and taste the smirk on his mouth, and maybe verify the truth of his latest proclamation.

“Tell you what,” he said after a while. “Why don’t I give you my number and you can call me when you feel sure you want your own name tattooed onto your skin?”

“What’s wrong with having my name on my skin? People have their partner’s. I think mine is a more sensible decision.”

He nodded in agreement, even as he handed her the design.

“Sorry, Nesta. No can do.”

“Where did the miss go?”

His eyes caught the light as he leaned forward, and she discovered he had green flecks in his golden eyes. “Where does she want to go?”

She licked her lips. She was thirsty and breathless and absolutely spinning out of control. “Any suggestions?”

He was so close his breath fanned on her naked arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Many, but none you would be interested in.”

“Humor me.”

A few hours later, Nesta was thirsty and breathless and out of control for entirely different reasons. She was also, maybe for the first time of her life, completely and utterly sated. Cassian was dozing next to her, enjoying his well-deserved rest after he showed her peaks she had never known existed. She scooted closer to him, resting her head against his chest and letting loose a giddy smile.

That was not the last night Nesta spent in his bed.

After their first meeting, they had become attached at the hip. It was a new and strange sensation, to have a tether tying her to someone, but she no longer knew how she had managed to live without it for so long. Wherever he went, and Gods knew he went to a lot of places she would never have stepped a foot in before, she willingly followed.

Shortly after that fateful night, he quit his tattoo artist job. He lived in a van for a while, and instead of being repulsed as she would have before, Nesta was ecstatic every time he showed up at her door and whisked her away to a new rural and gorgeous place. She went from spending her weekends among the nobility of this era, donning tight dresses and fake smiles, to waking up in the grass, wearing worn sweaters and laughing at Cassian’s endless ridiculous jokes. It was just as well, because with every new destination, Nesta found a small piece of her heart beneath a stone, between the stars or hidden in his sun kissed skin.

Then he became a bartender, and the spot at the head of the bar became hers. Every night, instead of going to the library, she would go there. She met his inner circle soon after. To her surprise, his brother was dating the sister she had fallen out with years prior. Over drinks and dart games, they managed to bond again, and another part of her soul fell back into place.

Her smiles came fuller and more frequently. She was more relaxed, enjoyed her present more than planning her future. Her grades shot up, too. She was more creative, bolder and showed more initiative. She approached people she had only ever looked down her nose on, and made long lasting friends.

A few months later, Cassian was opening his very own restaurant, a fusion of Illyrian cuisine and crazy recipes they had come up with randomly on their long road trips or in the dead of night in the apartment they shared.

Cassian could only afford a warehouse, with no tiles, bare walls, and leaky pipes. Yet, the empty space seemed more promising than her future ever had.

Especially as he dropped on one knee in the dirt and pulled out a ring from his back pocket. She could tell from the twisted strands of copper, iron and gold, plus the small diamond shaped like a flower that he had designed it himself.

She said yes, through happy tears and happier kisses.

She took a sabbatical year.

They moved approximately five times, traveled the world and ended up getting matching tattoos, which even they found ironic.

One day, she suddenly jolted awake at dawn, her heart racing. She took in the wooden ceiling, the cluttered but cozy bedroom. Strong arms held her closer, pressing her into a deliciously warm chest, and her frazzled brain finally put it all back in place.

Happiness, as foreign at it was familiar, bloomed in her chest.

She was nowhere she had ever planned to be, but she couldn’t be more grateful Cassian had taken her hand and wrecked her carefully laid plans.

How could she be anything but thankful when her man had brought her home?


End file.
